


Why don't you look at me the way you look at her?

by teacupdrop



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: F/F, Happy Ending, Jealousy, One Shot, i ship lesbians with happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14000769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupdrop/pseuds/teacupdrop
Summary: It was always about Lyn around Florina. When would it ever be about Serra?(Florina/Serra)





	Why don't you look at me the way you look at her?

**Author's Note:**

> [jeb bush voice] please ship
> 
> I am... Appalled there were no works for this perfectly good ship when both Florina and Serra are useless lesbians with canon supports. I have to feed my own god damn self in this economy
> 
> Written for Femslash February, then school happened but the urge to give the gays everything they want remained
> 
> (ps i actually love lyn but i also love catty jealous serra so pwease no steppy)

When the skirmish died out, it was time for the healers to rush to salvage the scraps. Such was the ebb and flow of battle— but for Serra, she was looking for something sweeter and more fair amongst the gore and shrapnel.

Serra ran to find her favorite pegasus knight to tell her all about how she was _so_ resourceful about the vulneraries and how she saved all these ingrates who were close to death.

... Of course, Florina was already attached to the hip to a certain rising star of a Marchioness.

Before Serra could even call out, they were sky high and going back to base, leaving her quite literally in the dust.

The cleric’s staff almost broke from how tightly she gripped it. Her grip only loosened when she heard a faint clearing of the throat and exhausted whinny behind her.

"Priscilla!" Serra whined. "Did you see that? The way she just flew away? You'd think she didn't know me!"

The troubadour offered a hand up behind her tired horse, a far cry from the magnificent flying beast.

"That's how it is in an army, Serra... I would think as a cleric, you'd be used to being attended to last."

With a huff, Serra wrapped her hands around the ginger's annoyingly thin waist. "No, Prissy. I won't stand to be last! Not ever!"

Priscilla giggled, in the free way only a countess could. As the noblewoman's body shook, the cleric was reminded again of what her expired birthright could have brought her.

 

⚜⚜⚜⚜

 

Why, why, _why_ was it always about Lyn?

Could it be her olive skin tone that tanned so beautifully under the sun? The way her hair shimmered like emeralds and jade? Or was it just because everyone was so damn enamored with the good and gorgeous Lady Lyndis?

Serra hoped for the most obnoxious answer. It was all because she was Lady of Caelin, wasn't it?

... Wasn't it?

It sure felt like Florina would sing her praises all day. Not audibly, no, never out loud in case a passing ear heard her tiny, meek voice. No, Florina's devotion became plain entirely from how her wet, dewy eyes always seemed to come alive at the sight of her immaculate liege.

Lyn this, Lyn that. Oh, how grateful Florina was that Lady Lyndis was so kind in befriending her! In taking care of her in the heat of battle! In babying her every step of the way in a disastrous social interaction!

Serra did that too! More! And better! Sure, she was a little pushy and abrasive. But that's how you got things done in a cruel, cruel man's world full of dirt and blood where no-one listened to you unless you were the loudest in the room.

Hmph. Even Matthew gave her better attention, and he was still reeling from his dead girlfriend.

 

⚜⚜⚜⚜

 

This was the part the cleric dreaded the most. The blood. The screaming. The flies. While she was ostensibly a healer because she could wave her staff and fix the most pressing wounds in a battle, sometimes she and the others were too late. Sometimes, bones cracked, and flesh bloomed to expose blood and marrow like depraved flowers.

That wasn’t what she imagined when she imagined war. She imagined dashing knights and stories of glory and chivalry. Perhaps a hero could even sweep her off her feet while they swept foes off the battlefield.

The reality was more... disgusting. Serra let Priscilla handle the worst of it since the troubador’s stiff upper lip was unwavering even in these times. The cleric could have made fun of the countess’s more superfluous habits and tastes all she wanted, but when it came down to it, Prissy’s years of embroidering made for the cleanest sutures. And Lucius… well, _he_ never fumbled the last rites.

A guttural, but disturbingly well-mannered howl almost made Serra drop the bucket of water she had just drawn.

“Lady Priscilla, I beseech you…! A mere smile from you would be my panacea! My heart breaks like my lance had!” Only one man would speak so shamelessly—

“ _Sain_...” Priscilla said, with the patience of all the saints. “Your thumb is hanging by its ligaments. Now please... Still.”

When the cleric furtively glanced over her shoulder, she nearly puked. Sain’s hand was nearly eviscerated by splintered wood, and Priscilla had the tall order of plucking each piece out to restructure the hand before she could even begin to cast magic on it.

Serra had never felt this much _lack_ of envy towards someone in her life. She set the bucket next to them, unable to tear her eyes away from the operation. Sain caught her look and smirked despite sweating from his labor of suppressing more screams. “Like what you see, Serra the Sweet? It’s not as bad as it seee-EEEEYOW!”

Priscilla extracted a gem of a chip, covered in blood as if it were a jammed bread roll.

The cleric felt her stomach turn in on itself, and she dashed out of the tent, not even noticing that Florina waved at her as she dove straight to a bush. It was only when she had completely emptied herself that she felt a tug on her twin tails.

The lovely pegasus knight was holding up her hair and quietly offered her a handkerchief. Hesitating for just a moment, she placed a warm hand on Serra’s back to soothe her as if she were a belligerent pegasus.

… Serra would forgive her for leaving her behind.

Just this once.

 

⚜⚜⚜⚜

 

Oh. Oh no.

Serra knew she made a mistake entering the healer's tent when she saw the two occupants were Lucius and Priscilla. No wonder everyone else was evacuating the tent— the atmosphere practically chilled to a blizzard when the two ever saw each other.

They never talked. That'd be acknowledging each other's presence. No, they did everything to pretend the other didn't exist— and it just so happened that Lucius was grinding herbs on a table that was as far away as possible from the dressings cabinet, which Priscilla was reorganizing despite Serra knowing for a fact she had already done so that morning. Coincidence. Surely.

Serra came for one person anyway. Practically walking on her toes, she grabbed Lucius and left the tent as quickly as a passing breeze.

Only confused for a second, Lucius exhaled deeply when he realized who exactly was strong-arming him outside. "Bless you, Sister Serra. I couldn't breathe."

"Elimine's blood, Lucius! Has it always been that bad?" Serra pressed as she found a suitably deserted spot to converse in peace.

The beautiful man laughed hollowly before he waved the topic away. "It's never quite good on the account of Lord Ray—Raven. But besides that, you—" He looked at her with concern, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Your eyes... have you been crying?"

"No." Serra replied automatically. "... Ugh, yes. I need your opinion on something."

"I’m always at your service."

 

_Serra cherished these moments. The army was on the move, and organization didn't matter as much when it was migration and not a march. The cleric chose her favorite occupation besides healing— talking Florina's ear off._

_"Don't you think that Lord Hector and Lady Lyndis are getting along very well?_ Too _well?" Her voice was sing-songy as it usually were when she wanted to gossip. "They're alone together all the time now!"_

_“Th-They do always train together, huh…?” Florina added._

_“It’s_ soooo _s_ _weet! I think I can hear wedding bells already! Oh, if only I could get a man to train with me one-on-one myself!”_

_"H-Haha... Yeah... Lady Lyndis would be a very lucky woman..."_

_... What? What was Florina saying?_

_"Don't you mean Lord Hector is lucky?” inquired Serra incredulously. “I mean, Lady Lyndis has it all! The exciting and exotic past, the beauty and brawns—"_

_"O-Oh... Um, Serra, I wanted to tell you…” Florina looked away as she blushed, holding her lance closer to her as if to hide her face. “It’s—It’s a secret… Our first one...! Hehe... I—I think I have... what you call... a crush! A crush on Lord Hector…!"_

_"No, you don't." Serra blurted it so quickly, so firmly that she almost astonished herself. But she felt numb— almost nauseated._

_"... Huh?"_

_"Why— How could you even—"_

_Nails digging into her palms, Serra wanted to scream at her. Scream that Florina had always admired Lyn to the point she was beginning to copy her, to shadow even the swings of the Marchioness's moods and convictions and bowel movements and even CRUSHES?_

_Was Florina such a slave to Lyn's affection that she couldn't even tell the beginnings and ends of their personhood? What would Florina know about fancying anyone? What could she possibly know, how could she even—_

_"You're afraid of men! Always have been! And I—" Serra’s eyes were welling up now, and she couldn't even finish her sentence._ I helped you overcome that. Not Lady Lyndis.

_"S-Serra... Are you okay...?"_

_“I’m fine! Just— don’t say such stupid things to other people okay? Okay?!”_

_“O-Okay! Okay, I’m sorry!”_

_And that just made Serra feel even worse, because she knew that Florina really was sorry, and she didn’t even know why! Because Florina trusted her outspoken cleric, might even believe herself when she said she was crushing on Hector when really—_

_Oh, Elimine. Oh, was Florina really in love with Lady Lyndis?_

_Was that why…? Was that why it hurt so much?_

_Serra bit her lip from saying anything more, to stop her eyes from sweating before Florina could see her. As Serra whipped around, the cleric’s pigtails almost caught on the pegasus’s reins, and she fell to the mud._

You only love her because she rescues you!

_The tears were already falling, and Serra couldn’t tell if she had spoken her poison aloud or if the thought was merely that lucid. As the cleric picked herself back up, she didn’t bother to look back to see if Florina cared. Serra ran as the army marched forward, ran to the backline where the healers convened._

 

“Why is she so stupid, Lucius?” Serra sobbed into Lucius’s shoulder, crying all over again as she recalled it. “How can she be so…”

“There, there…” Lucius helped loosen a lock of pink hair away from her wet face, and he looked at her not with pity but with such saintly understanding that she couldn't bear it. “We can’t always help who we love. It’s Saint Elimine’s way of humbling us— reminding us that life is full of both blessings and curses.”

“Look at you, being so monk-like…!” The cleric couldn’t help but laugh amidst her tears. “I’m still the senior priest, you know, Brother Lucius…”

“Yes, Sister Serra.” He received it good-heartedly, as he always did.

Finally calm, Serra shook the dry mud off her dress. If it were any other day, she would have been hysterical or at least— she’d try to call for pity, calling it a slight against her very soul. And Florina, oh dear, Florina, would’ve given her soothing words and a smile, a balm that could only come from her.

Serra couldn’t believe herself. How could she miss the very person she was quarreling with?

Sighing, the cleric whispered, “Does it hurt, Lucius? To be in love with Lord Raymond?”

The air was still, as if the whisper itself commanded its attention. Serra knew she was never supposed to speak of it— and she would understand if Lucius would never want to associate with her again.

But instead, he placed a hand over hers. His eyes were right on her, but his gaze was distant and elusive.

“... I’d bear this pain, over and over, so long as I could be by his side.”

And for the rest of her life, Serra would hate how the same sentiment would ring true for her time and time again.

 

⚜⚜⚜⚜

 

They didn’t talk for a while. Serra knew it wouldn’t be easy. Florina was never one to strike conversation, let alone beg reconciliation. It was bitter to know that Florina probably understood that something was wrong but not what exactly. Serra could hope for a _sorry_ whispered as Florina passed by— and if the cleric was honest with herself, she needed this more than the pegasus knight needed it.

Florina had Lyn after all. Infallible, beautiful, and perfect Lyn and not the difficult, overbearing, and _honest_ Serra.

But just when it was almost unbearable—to not hear a peal of laughter whenever Serra picked wild flowers in a chaotic arrangement that made sense only to herself, to not have an open hand to clutch when the the air was suddenly cold, to not complain about but secretly admire the pegasi Florina surrounded herself with— just when it got too empty, Florina surprised her.

The distant cricketing of cicadas meant it was still night when Florina shook her awake. Thinking it was Lucius calling her to morning prayer, Serra mumbled rude remarks before Florina placed a gentle finger on her lips. Lucius was womanly but not to the point his fingers were _that_ soft. Finally stirring and opening her eyes properly, Serra saw that it was the pegasus rider in her full riding regalia.

What was going on? Was there a battle already? Before she could ask, Florina picked her up straight from bed, in a carry more fitting for a groom and his bride. Serra could hardly stop herself from blushing, and she thanked Elimine the night air was cold enough it chilled her fast-beating heart reddening her face even a little bit. Since when was Florina so strong…?!

“F-Florina, what are you—?!” Serra started, but she didn’t make any attempt to stop her. A distant flapping of wings gave the cleric a sense of location as the knight walked, and Florina let her down in front of her beast of battle.

Florina held up Serra with an arm, and even when she was standing on her own two feet Florina wasn’t quick to let go. When their eyes met, Florina’s misty but determined eyes told the cleric that this was something different from their usual. Serra saw that Florina was shaking underneath her armor and before the cleric could say anything, the knight whispered, “There’s… T-There’s something I have to show you… And so…”

“... W-Well?” Serra said, louder. “Let’s get on with it then.”

Smiling at her reassurance, Florina got on Huey before offering Serra a hand. Serra took it, noting how firm her grip was despite how she shivered. The cleric was embarrassed at how child-like she felt, grabbing on to her armored counterpart so delicately, so ignorantly.

“You should… hold on tight…!” Florina said, as if she had read her mind. With nothing to lose, Serra fully embraced her, embraced her lavender hair scented like a spring breeze and flowers. It was a comfort she longed for and missed— but wait! Serra was still ostensibly annoyed at her!

Before Serra could protest, a flick of Florina’s wrists and the snap of the reins sent the pegasus flying into the air. The sheer power of its wings almost threw Serra off, and she couldn’t care about being annoyed or not. With a shriek, she shut her eyes and held onto Florina tighter than she ever had before.

When the pegasus seemed to find its place in the skies, the cleric slowly opened her eyes. Huey was flying even quicker than she expected, and the stars and moons above turned into a mesmerizing flurry of motion. They sparkled brighter than even the finest gems from Etruria, and Serra only looked away when her neck began to ache. It was almost as if they were flying across the deepest depths of the ocean inverted, with crystals of salt thrown across a dark tablecloth by a giant’s hand.

“Is this… Is this what you wanted to show me, Florina?” She shouted against the wind. “It’s— It’s beautiful—! No wonder you’re a pegasus knight!”

With a tug of the reins the pegasus turned swiftly, earning another shriek from the cleric. But it was followed by a laugh, and Serra dared to let go of Florina to raise her arms, in worship, in ecstasy expressed. The wind ran through her fingers like a stream, and when they flew towards a cloud, she drew lines across it like sand.

What freedom! What joy!

“Serra… Look! To the east!”

The sky was stained orange at its edge, and the stain grew slowly as light poured out of the mountains. The black of the cloth bled into a plum where it met the light, and the stars shied away into the deeper darkness to make way for its largest sister. Pillars of light joined together as the crown of the skies emerged.

Sunrise.

Time had to have passed for the sun to continue rising, to dissipate the dark clouds hugging the horizon. But for Serra, it was as if she was numb and frozen in a perfect moment. It was the most regular and pedestrian event in the cosmic timeline, but she had the most special girl in the world in her arms to share witness of it.

Oh Elemine… How divine! How utterly perfect!

Before the light blinded her, Serra was thrown forward when Florina snapped the reins once more to send them diving below. The pegasus landed gently, the grass swaying in rolls with each flap of its wings. Serra tried to get off before Florina, but her body was not forgiving in forcing it back on land when it had just bonded with the sky above. Her ankles wobbled and gave way, and she fell into the fields. Florina gasped, failing to catch her in time, but Serra couldn’t care. The cleric laughed heartily, tears forming at the edge of her eyes. Florina hurried down to pick up her friend, and Serra simply threw her arms around her shoulders in response.

“Florina, oh—! Oh, that was _marvelous_! Simply— gorgeous!”

The knight smiled, her eyes alight. “I-I’m— I’m g-glad you liked it…!”

“ _Liked_ it? Florina, I _adored_ it!” Serra’s voice was the shrillest it’d ever be, and with a squeal she got up to look at the sun once more.

“It… It really is different up there, isn’t it?” The cleric was suddenly aware of how hoarse her throat was, and her voice was just above a whisper. “The world, from above, as the divines see it… You’re a lucky little duck to see it every day!”

Florina giggled in response. “Y-You always… describe everything so nicely, Serra… Um,” Her faint smile became fainter still, replaced with a worried frown. “Y-You’re not mad at me anymore, right…?”

… Right. They were having, er, a spat, weren’t they? With a pout, Serra crossed her arms and stared… Before wrapping the silly knight with her arms into a bear hug she wouldn’t worm her way out of.

“... Fool. I can never stay mad at you.”

The initial shock wearing off, Florina gently hugged back, letting her face rest on the cleric’s shoulder. “That’s—that’s a good thing, i-isn’t it…?”

Practically shoved back with Serra’s twig-like arms, Florina tensed when she saw Serra was close to tears, her face puckered trying to hold the rain back. The cleric held on to the pegasus knight’s pauldrons tightly.

“S… Serra...?!”

“Y-Y-You,” she sniffed, “d-did all this just, to make me feel better…! Now I’m even talking like you!”

And Florina, heavenly and beautiful Florina, smiled innocently and covered Serra’s hands with her warm ones.

“O-Of course… What—” She held her hands tighter, “—what are friends for?”

Serra hugged her again, although the way she dug into Florina’s breastplates made it feel more like a cling. She let herself cry, croaking out, “You sweet child…! So grown up…!”

The knight pat her back as if she were an inconsolable street cat. “U-Um, Serra…”

Sniffling, the cleric looked up. “Yes, my dearest, cutest, beloved friend?”

“Your hair…”

A hand snapped to the back of Serra’s hair, and felt something… _frizzy_? Two hands attended her hair now, and she realized in the confusion of waking she had never styled her hair into her signature pigtails.

Hearing running water, Serra ran to see her reflection and was horrified at the beast that broke the sheet of blue on the stream’s surface. Her beautiful hair, thrown free into the elements, was a bird’s nest.

Serra belted out her final shriek before her voice gave away for the rest of the day.

 

⚜⚜⚜⚜

 

The bells of the chapel for once rung for joy and harmony and not for a final farewell. Lady Lyndis was Marchioness Caelin no more, but Lord Hector’s lawfully wedded wife. A chorus of applause after the processional soon turned into a tide being belched out of the building once the chapel’s heavy doors opened.

It were as if the Divines themselves were blessing the couple. Fluffy, adorable clouds adorned the skies like they were picked out by the wedding decorators, and the sun shone just enough to bask everyone in warmth and happiness. Floral confetti elevated everything into something truly unforgettable and wonderful.

And Serra was happy for the couple. Truly happy. Elimine herself must have bestowed the cleric with a peace she hadn’t felt since she had first joined the order. The war was over, after all. And despite it all, despite the odds… The marriage meant she could see _her_ again. The knight who could command a beast that weighed more than she ate in a week. The soldier who could slay anyone for her Lady but not be able to get even three words out in her presence.

The one who caught her Lady’s bouquet.

Not that they hadn't seen each other before just… With the wedding and postwar tidying, they barely had the time to truly be themselves together. It was always as cleric and knight, servants enacting their Lord and Lady's wills.

At least Florina had the decency to hold her hand the entire processional and offer a handkerchief when the inevitable human spring broke for the warm weather. Attentive girl.

So finally, finally, _finally_ the bridesmaid was sitting by herself across her in the narrow room which was to become Lady Lyndis’s boudoir. It had also served as the room where the chaos that came with preparing a wedding was hidden away from important eyes. Servants came and went, not paying the two much mind.

Florina was clearly struggling with unraveling the tight braids that held her hair up. Despite her gentle looks, she was never one for preening much less handling intricate work done by overzealous maids.

When the bridesmaid yelped as she accidentally tore out a few hairs, Serra knew it was time to take the girl out of her misery. With light steps, she snuck up behind Florina and covered her eyes. She squeaked as she pulled the foreign hands away and looked up to face her once-constant companion.

“S-Serra…?”

“Surprised you recognized me under these layers of powder. I had to bribe the maids to put this much on, you know!”

Florina swung around her chair, but Serra pushed her back down when she attempted to stand. The cleric drew a circle in the air, and ever attentive Florina obeyed and turned back around. Quietly, Serra started the process of painlessly letting loose every braid.

With just a prick of misery, Serra eyed the bouquet the knight had caught. It was a pristine bundle of white roses nestled in colorful wildflowers with a distinctively Sacaean touch. Even now, Lady Lyndis didn’t forget her roots. Her presence was felt everywhere.

They both said nothing until Florina broke the silence with a meek but simple statement. “I… I missed you.”

The cleric’s fingers fumbled, Serra’s face coloring. She hated how even the simplest words from Florina affected her more than the most florid proclamations of love from tasteless men… Not like those came frequently. Or at all. But if they did, Serra wouldn’t help but think how they couldn’t hold a candle to her pegasus knight.

Her thin fingers working again, she teased, “It’s only been a year. And we’ve seen each other a few times before too! Does nothing happen in Caelin that you think of me always?”

Florina hummed in thought, and when her head floated towards the sky, Serra patted her back down causing her to giggle. “A lot happened… But I think Huey missed you too. And that m-made me miss you even more...”

Serra’s face reddened to a deeper shade. “H-Honestly, what’s with you today? Think you can seduce favors out of Lord Hector’s house? The Marquess and I may be close, but not _that_ close!”

“Actually Serra... I just wanted to ask…” Florina paused as she swallowed, her thin lips quivering. “...Why do you look so sad?”

Loose locks of lilac slipped out of her fingers as she stopped. “Huh?”

“When you’re with me… y-you always look so sad. E-Even today… with the, um, w-wedding...”

That gave Serra pause. She wished she could object, with a joking and light, _I_ was _crying after all! I’m afraid I’ll never have a wedding as perfect as this one!_

But she couldn’t even joke about it, not when Florina was being so bold. Instead, she laughed nervously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

And the dumb girl stiffened, as Florina always did when she was unsure of something. “J-Just… I wonder… Do—Do you like to be a-around me, Serra?”

The cleric wished she could just lie to Florina, say that she’s really a sad, miserable person who hated moments without her knight while finding it unbearable to be with her when there was always going to be a third woman between them. Someone who was always going to be more important than Serra.

Oh, but that wasn’t a lie. It was the ugly truth.

And even Florina would have to come to know just how ugly and bitter Serra was inside.

“I’m always happy with you. But…” Serra’s fingers never stopped moving as she spoke. “Will I ever be as good as Lyn? I don’t handle the sword like her, and I can’t accompany you to the frontlines like her. You’re so different with her. So… content. And when you look at her I... I always think, ‘Why don’t you look at me the way you look at her?’”

Her deepest sins revealed, Serra wanted to rip out her heart which was beating its way up to her throat. She had no tears to spare for this sentiment. It had haunted her for too long.

Florina was absolutely still. Serra couldn't read her expression when she was behind her, and that was for her benefit. Hastily, Serra concluded, “B-But it's silly to dwell on it now! Lady Lyndis is happy, as she should be. So is Lord Hector! I can’t have any complaints.”

Florina’s final locks free, Serra put hesitant hands on Florina’s bare shoulders.

_Tell me you hate me. Tell me you’ll never love me as much as you love your lady._

_Tell me… anything…_

_No. Please, tell me that you—_

“Finished. Now, forget all that and let’s—”

Before Serra could react, Florina stood and whipped around to lock eyes with her. Her brows were narrowed, focused and exacting. The knight only looked like this when they were about to enter battle— and the only vestige left of the meek girl was the shaking of her hands. Florina clasped a hand on Serra’s, the other grabbing the bouquet.

As powerful as her steeds, the knight flew past the closets and piles of clothes and ribbons. Her heels clattered throughout the halls like hooves, and Serra could barely hold on. The two hurried up a stairway that led them to the top of a tower attached to the main keep. It faced west— and the setting sun wrapped them in a peach luminescence.

They both tried to catch their breaths, and Florina let go of Serra’s arm. The cleric flailed a little, struggling to speak. “Florina, that hurt—! What in Elimine’s name—”

“ _Y-You!_ ”

She jumped back, startled. Serra frantically looked around her, but it was obvious only the girl in front of her could have shouted so fiercely. Did… Florina actually _interrupt_ her?

“‘You only love her because she rescues you’— you said that, r-remember?!”

Serra blinked, nodding dumbfoundedly.

“And it's… it was true! For me, Lyn was always the one to save me if I ever fell. She was always the one to p-p-pick me up and t-tell me it's okay!

“But you… You never did that. You told me what to do, h-how to be… different. Even if it was hard. E-Even if I didn’t like it.

“You taught me so much… Gave me so much…”

With one last gulp of breath, she proclaimed, “Serra...! With the courage you gave me, I’m going to ask—! Be by my side!”

What she said next, Serra felt she was dreaming. Surely, the blessed orange light around them was just another layer of the haze of the mind.

“ _I love you!_ ” Florina roared, eyes closed and faced nestled between her outstretched arms that offered the bouquet.

Never in their year of the war, not even privately was the pegasus knight ever this loud, so clear in meaning. It actually terrified Serra, and her palms instantly dampened.

Her words though, they were real. Florina proclaimed them aloud, her voice actually thundering to the sky as witness, the one plane of the world she was most comfortable in.

Serra, for once, was speechless. With those words, it were as if the clouds that stormed in her heart and made it so aching... dissipated, without a trace.

“... Fine! I'll be with you,” Serra affirmed back. “I'll even be with you when you'll hate me and want me gone, when you think pegasi dung is prettier than my face! But I'll be with you. Always… and f...orever…”

Voice cracking, Serra swiped the bouquet and threw herself on to her lovely and stupid, but forever lovable knight. “... B-But only if you get me a new bouquet and say that all over again! With your back straight! Okay?!”

“O-okay!” Confused but fulfilled, Florina rested her forehead on her faithful cleric’s. “We can give this one to Huey...! H-he’ll love these… The little white flowers are—are actually Sacaean too, and he liked them back when—”

“Elimine’s sake! Florina, kiss me!” Impatient as always.

But the important part was that she did.

Serra could’ve flown themselves to a florist herself with how her heart sang. A gentle breeze made Florina’s hair curtain their most courtly kiss, as if to preserve the moment for only the two lover’s eyes. Irritatingly cute, brave, and thoughtful Florina was now irritatingly hers.

The knight’s dainty lips only parted when she was too embarrassed to keep it locked on to the cleric’s. Florina promptly whistled for her steed to have anything else to do.

“No fair, that was too short!” demanded Serra, her hands still hooked to her companion’s waist. “And your hair tickled my nose! How unromantic!”

“S-Serra! You asked—too suddenly—!”

“Just kidding! You’ll give me all the kisses in the world later, right?”

And Florina bent her knee, softly kissing Serra’s knuckles with a giggle. “Whatever… the princess wants…!”

“ _Florina!”_

And the cleric lived with her knight happily ever, spoiled like the noblewoman she always knew she was.

**Author's Note:**

> Endless love for my beta readers: [Tsukinokimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsukinokimi/) who doesn't even go to Flame Sign but read this for me anyway and made it readable for everyone else; Chris for her impeccable eye for flow and characterization; Casey who's gayer than I am and gave this a seal of approval.


End file.
